The orange flames of the campfire burned high, the crackling filling the air. Avon had told them to stack on lots of leaves and wet wood- so that the smoke masked them and the crackling deafened anyone around them.
"If you're gathered here," he whispered, loudly enough the other men seated around the fire could hear, but not the guards that wandered around other parts of the camp could hear, "You probably know what I hope from each of you."
Avon wondered if, down in the valley, Strahd could see their glowing embers on the mountaintop. He hoped so.
We're still here, Zarovich, he thought, And we're not leaving.
"My friend," said Ulmed, bowing before Strahd's throne. "It has been an honor to fight your war beside you."
"The honor is mine." Strahd bowed back, from where he sat on the throne.
"Unfortunately, it is time for me to leave," Ulmed went on, "With Cosima, Ansel, and Tristian. We're going to find a new land and spread what we've learned."
"I wish you luck," said the von Zarovich. "Perhaps you'll finally form that Inquisition you've been dreaming about - that one that fights evil."
"That is my plan," Ulmed admitted. "Goodbye, Strahd."
"Goodbye, Ulmed. I hope I see you again soon."
The former Priests of Osybus were scattered around the Amber Temple, despondent and in fear. Some anxiously sharpened knives. Others prayed desperately to gods they did not believe in.
One white-robe, who lay on the floor as if he had given up all hope, lifted his head.
"What do we do now?" he whispered.
Exethanter sat on the steps of their temple's altar, staring at her allies hopelessly. This should have been a joyous occasion. They had overthrown Osybus, the all-powerful lich! But with the curse… how could they be certain of their immortality? Inside her mind, she cursed and raged against her former master.
"Do you think we really will see him again soon?" someone else whispered. They were all like frightened children in the dark.
"No," said Exethanter, mustering her strength. "Doubtless, he meant we'd see him in death, but we will never die! Now that Osybus is gone, we're free to pursue eternity!"
"He cursed us so our immortality would fail when we least expect it," a cultist whimpered.
"We won't let it," insisted Exethanter. "We will break the curse."
"Then what do we do?"
The lich sighed. "Unfortunately, we must keep our name. We will remain the Priests of Osybus."
She raised his hand as protests erupted.
"I don't like it anymore than you do," Exethanter said firmly, "But it is from him we get our powers. That, we can't deny."
Grumbles slowly subsided as the cultists accepted the fact.
Exethanter groaned, tired after a day in battle. "I'm going to rest. Disturb me only with important things."
As she walked to her resting place, she felt a wind blow around her. She tensed. Was it Osybus's voice again?
Exethanter, it whispered.
The front doors of Castle Ravenloft were thrown open, and in walked Sergei. Strahd looked up from a message he'd been reading. Behind his younger brother, he noticed a woman.
"Strahd!" Sergei cried. He ran up to the throne, then quickly dropped to a kneel as he approached, as though he'd forgotten himself.
"Oh, please," scoffed Strahd. "You don't need to kneel to me, brother."
Sergei hastily stood. "I'm so glad you survived the battle," he breathed. "You killed Osybus! Incredible!"
He stared at his brother in awe.
"And who is this?" Strahd turned to look at the woman who'd also come in.
"This is Tatyana," Sergei said, introducing her. "I asked her to come to your castle."
"Of course," Strahd nodded. "You are very welcome here… Tatyana."
She curtsied. "Thank you, Lord Zarovich."
She was beautiful, Strahd thought. The features of her face were soft and kind. Her brown hair fell around her shoulders. He could imagine running his hand through it.
Sergei glanced between Tatyana and Strahd, frowning slightly. Something strange seemed to pass between them.
The older Zarovich cleared his throat. "Well, I hope you enjoy it here. Sergei, would you care to get to know Castle Ravenloft with her? I've prepared a room for you, and Tatyana, I'll have the servants prepare one of their empty rooms for you."
"Come," Sergei led her out of the throne room. "Let's see if we can find our way through this maze!"
Tatyana hurried through the passages after Sergei, noticing how high every ceiling was and how elegant all the jewelry and tapestry on the walls were.
"I think this castle is even bigger than the one I lived in as a child!" Sergei exclaimed.
"Really?" Tatyana asked. "I've only ever lived in villages; this is bigger than I can imagine."
"It's exciting, isn't it, exploring a new place?" the von Zarovich's eyes shone as he turned to her. "Imagine how much there is to discover somewhere this big!"
He glanced down a hallway, which was lined with dark red carpet. "Strahd already has half the place prepared; he works so quickly!"
Tatyana smiled and nodded. She wasn't sure she liked Strahd very much. He seemed polite enough, but there was something too rigid and distant about him.
"Look!" Sergei gasped. There was an open door that led into the room. Over the doorknob, in charcoal, her name was written.
"We've found your room!"
Tatyana laughed. "Everything surprises you, doesn't it?"
"Everything is surprising here!" he answered.
Tatyana walked into the room and looked around. It was enormous by her standards, the bed as big as her old kitchen. Massive, clear doors with a balcony gave her a view outside.
"I'm pretty tired from all the traveling, Sergei," she said. "I think I'll rest for a while."
"Of course." Sergei left the room.
Tatyana lay down on the bed, then immediately regretted it.
She knew what was to come.
Exethanter strode back into the main room of the Amber Temple. Not one cultist had moved from their hopeless self-pitying.
One priest turned to look at the lich, at her strange expression.
"What is it?" the priest asked.
Exethanter smiled. From the passageway behind her, a column of dark mist spread out, filling the room.
Sergei made his way back to the throne room, where Strahd still sat.
"So, how did you manage to kill Osybus?" he asked the older von Zarovich.
"We very nearly didn't," Strahd told him. "But at the last moment, his priests turned against him, and he was weakened enough to be destroyed."
"His priests turned against him?" Sergei frowned. "Where did they go after the battle?"
"They vanished." Strahd shrugged. "I'm going to investigate it."
"And you're not worried it could have been a trick, so he would be able to come back?"
"Anyone I knew who had an ounce of magical power confirmed; he was gone."
"Alright, then." He trusted his brother.
Strahd stared at the door Sergei had come through. "This Tatyana, do you love her?"
Sergei was surprised by the question. "Well - yes, I think so."
Strahd nodded absentmindedly, staring off into the distance without saying anything. Right when Sergei began to feel awkward, someone in ragged clothes burst into the room.
"Ravenovia is dead!" he shrieked.
Ulmed halted his horse as the path he was following split. Cosima, Ansel, and Tristian stopped behind him.
"You go ahead," he told them. "Find the place for us to establish ourselves. I'm going to ride around the valley, see if anyone wants to join our force."
"Are you sure?" Cosima asked.
"Yes."
"We'll come with you," said Tristian. "In case you get into trouble."
"No, no," Ulmed waved his hand. "I'll only be a few days behind you. Besides, the three of you need to set up our keep, make sure it's clear of monsters."
"Well, alright," said Ansel.
"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine," Ulmed reassured them. "I'm in Strahd's land."
It was the dream again.
Tatyana stood on the edge of a cliff. That was all she could see; the rest of the world, including whatever lay at the bottom of the cliff, was shrouded in swirling mist.
She tried to move, to run away from the precipice, but her legs were frozen in place. Around her, the fog swirled. It whispered.
Tatyana tried harder to move her legs. They wouldn't. The whispering increased in volume, sounding more and more excited. Only a few steps away, a dark shape emerged, hidden by the murk. It growled and muttered and murmured as it approached. Tatyana whimpered. She pulled at her legs, trying to make herself run, to get away from the horrible thing, but she couldn't.
And, right when the shadowy shape was about to be revealed to her, she was thrown backwards through the air, and then she was falling, whispering wind rushing past her as the mist swallowed her.
She awoke, the bed soaked in sweat.
The man wore servant's robes that were in tatters, as though he'd been living in the forest for a year. His eyes were hollow and haunted, and he looked absolutely exhausted. The moment he'd finished his cry, he fell to the ground of Strahd's throne room, as though he had spent all his energy on the shout.
Sergei and Strahd rushed forward to look at the unconscious servant.
"Did you hear what I heard?" Sergei looked at Strahd. "Our mother is dead?"
"Mother Ravenovia," said Strahd. "That's what I heard too."
Some soldiers helped them drag him to a sick bed, where the servant lay for over an hour, until his eyes finally opened.
Strahd leaned in close. "Can you hear me?"
"Yes," the man coughed feebly.
"Who are you?"
"I am - was - a servant of the Lady Ravenovia."
"You said she was dead."
The man nodded and hacked more.
"What happened?" Sergei asked anxiously.
"We were riding to this castle from her tower," the servant wheezed. "One morning, we woke up and she was gone. We searched - we searched for hours. For leagues. Our magic users confirmed; she was dead. But they couldn't talk to her spirit. All they could see was a hazy shadow and something that sounded like… garbled screaming. I ran here as fast as I could. I didn't stop once…" the man choked and stopped talking.
Ravenovia's tower was far away. How fast would this servant have had to run to get to Ravenloft so quickly? Faster than a horse.
"You've done your duty," said Strahd. "You can rest now, in our castle."
Sergei's eyes widened. "Our mother is dead? We must hold a funeral!"
"We have no body," Strahd reminded him.
"We don't need one," Sergei strode out of the room, calling to their servants, "I need my mother's funeral ready by tonight!"
"We need to take down Strahd," Avon whispered to those around the fire. "He's cruel, and he drove us out. He's not fit to rule our valley."
"We should have someone else rule in his place," someone muttered.
"Excellent idea," Avon threw a branch in the fire. "Someone who will rule more fairly… who will let us back in."
"How do we do that?" a man asked.
"We have to kill him."
Avon stared at the men gathered around the fire. They were all tired. Some were scared by the prospect. Others seemed excited. Others had their brows furrowed- in confusion or anger, he couldn't tell.
"I'm not asking you to join me," Avon continued. "But tomorrow morning, the rest of our people are leaving. We'll sneak back into the valley and begin to plan. Come with me if you will. If you don't- at least don't tell his soldiers this."
He stood up and looked each one in the eyes. They stared back at him.
Then, one man got up. And another. Almost every person around the fire stood beside him, united in their goal.
And inside their veil of smoke, the assassination began.
We can free you from your curse, whispered the fog that filled the Amber Temple.
"Who are you?" someone whimpered. Exethanter couldn't see anything anymore; the mist was too thick.
We are the Dark Powers.
"How can you free us?" Exethanter asked. Ever since the mist had found her, the lich had known they were the answer.
We will break Osybus's power over you, the voices gibbered, But only if you do something for us first.
"What do we have to do?"
You must find us a vessel, to conquer the world. This vessel must be of nobility. Once this vessel is ours, and has full control over all the world, we will free you and you will be immortal.
Excited chattering broke out through the Amber Temple. The Priests of Osybus had hope again.
"We will do it," Exethanter promised. "And, what's more, we already have a suitable vessel."
The empty coffin was lowered into the crypt. Sergei fought back the pain, willing himself to be strong. They were in the tallest spire of the castle. Thunder cracked around the airy tower, and a flash of lightning struck a castle wall.
As the last stone was set over his mother's crypt, the tears fell. Sergei didn't stop them. He hiccuped and sobbed. He was never going to see his mother again…
Beside Sergei, Tatyana gazed in solemn silence at the funeral that was taking place. The von Zarovich began to cry, and she turned to look at him. He was shaking, wiping the tears with his sleeves.
She reached her hand out and entwined her fingers with his. He held onto them tight.
As she looked around, Tatyana realized there was someone missing.
Strahd was walking back to his chambers when he passed a portrait that was being hung up. It was one of Sergei. He looked young, handsome, and kind. Strahd walked on, to his room. There, he looked at himself in the mirror. His worn, old face. The harsh edges of his features. His battle scars.
And he felt a strange anger.